Sasha Belov: The Heart Of A Champion
by LDT5413
Summary: "After all the pain and heartache I've went through, I wouldn't change a thing, because then I wouldn't have met you." Join Gymnastics Legand Sasha Belov as he shares the highs and lows of his journey before, during, and after achieving Olympic Gold.
1. The Beginning

**AN: Okay I was working on a chapter for Love and Sacrifice and I came up with this idea. I'm planning on writing an autobiography of sorts for Sasha. It won't be too long, maybe four or five chapters at most, but we'll see. I've had one-shots turn into massive stories. I plan on getting Sasha's thoughts and ideas of the pre-MIOBI world. I want to try to discover what makes Sasha...well, Sasha. I hope you guys read and review letting me know what you guys think. **

Some say that dreams are that of a subconscious wish or a subtle idea that morphs into an obsession, a fixation, but really a dream is your greatest hopes and desires that you wish to fulfill in your lifetime. . .no matter the earth shattering, pain filled loss or triumph you face in getting there. As long as you get to that one place, that one moment in time you will some how feel like a king who inherited the world.

I remember where I was when I figured out my dream and where I wanted to go with my life. I was a boy of only five when I saw my father, Dmitri, in his gym working with athletes that could do incredible things with their bodies. They could control their bodies and push themselves to the limits on a daily basis. Even at my young age I could see that it took great dedication to do what these athletes before me did. To have that much power and that much control was an amazing idea to me. When I mentioned to my father that I wanted to train in the sport of gymnastics I thought that my father would never be happier with me. My mother just looked at me and smiled before hugging me. My mum's words on that night still ring in my head even after all these years. Her soft voice like a beautiful lament whispered in my ear: "Don't let the sport of gymnastics take your life. Just as long as you are happy and healthy, you'll achieve great things. No matter what you do."

I had no idea what my mother was talking about that night, but over time I began to realize causes for my mothers concern. The sport of gymnastics can take a life and break it into a thousand pieces. It's like a tornado ripping through the peaceful valley destroying every beautiful thing in its path, never to glance back at its destruction. Over the next few years I began to eat, sleep, breath, and bleed the sport I came to love. I used to lay in bed at night and listen to my parent's argue over the choices that my father made concerning my life in the gymnastics world. My mum always came to my defense when I wasn't, according to my father, pushing hard enough or believing enough. She would always say I was only a boy and that I needed time away from the sport in order to love it again. After she would come to my defense I would here glass shatter and my father say random things in Romanian that always made me cringe. I would always tense up, waiting for some form of impact of skin against skin, but thankfully for my mother's sake, it never came.

My parent's marriage seemed to fall apart at the seams when I started competing at the international level. In traveling at the junior level at the age of fifteen my goal and desire become more clear as my parent's marriage became less defined. After watching the 1994 Olympics, I knew that one day, I wanted to be standing on that podium with a gold medal around my neck. As I focused all of my pain and turmoil of my parent's wrecked marriage into my gymnastics, I didn't realize how focused and good I was becoming. In a way, my parent's downfall led to a major downfall of my own. After two years of striving for elite perfection in my sport, my whole world turned upside down in less than twenty-four hours.

In the spring of '96 a few days after my sixteenth birthday, my parent's told me they where getting a divorce. To say I was surprised would have been a lie. In truth I was lurking in the silence waiting for them to tell me for months. I foolishly thought that they would try to work it out, but the distance and damage that grew between them in resent years became irreparable. That same day, a talent agent walked into my father's gym requesting to see me. To spite my father and to show him I was growing up, I walked past him and up to the talent agent. When she turned around to look at me, my world change for a second time that day. Suddenly I felt that the powers above was trying to do right by me in sending me someone to help me achieve my dreams.

Throughout the day I learned that Mary-Anne Johnson, or more famously known as MJ, was interested in representing me. I found myself wanting her to represent me not only because she could really help me with making it to the Olympics, but because, at the time, she was breathtakingly beautiful. After I agreed to work with her, against my mothers' warnings and my fathers' disapproval I would realize over time, that things are not always what they seem to be.


	2. A Tragic Loss

**AN: Thank you Ria Rose for your review. Truthfully I'm excited to see where this goes to. I noticed that there were quite a few favorites and alerts for the story. If you guys can take the time to favorite it, you can also take the time to leave me a review. So please just take one or two minutes to leave me a review letting me know what you guys think. I hope you guys enjoy the insight I have on Sasha. Read and Review guys :-)**

Every time I think back on my time with the infamous MJ Martin, I always think of the love, hurt, pain, and betrayal I experienced with her. She destroyed the friendship that I worked so hard to keep with Marty Walsh and she indirectly destroyed my relationship with my father. When I met her in my fathers' gym, she was ironically a way out for me. After months of watching me improve and grow as an elite gymnast MJ and I became more than an agent/athlete dynamic. I thought that she was someone I could count on. . .no matter what. When my parents' divorce was final and my mother made the decision to leave Romania and return to the solace of England, MJ made arrangements for me to follow my mother. At the time I thought it was because she truly cared for me, in the same way that I cared for her. It turns out the endorsements and opportunities were more abundant for her in England. Like a fool in love, I took her advice and to spite my father, decided to go to England. For my mother. . .and yes, for MJ.

When I told my father I was going to go with my mother in England, he accused me of wanting to follow MJ. When I told him I was choosing to representing the nation of my mother, instead of staying loyal to Romania, he practically disowned me. The last words he said to me as my mother and I left my childhood home in the Romanian countryside was that love makes a man both blind and deaf. In defense of my mother I chose to walk away from him without a backwards glance. Sometimes I wonder if things between my father and I would have been different if I chose to look back or acknowledge him in some small way.

Of course not being one to dwell on the 'what if's' of the past, I hardly think of my father from my teen years. I left Romania with my mother, Isabella, when I was sixteen. I chose to follow my heart and follow my dreams. My heart was taken up by MJ and my dreams were to make it to the Olympics in 2000. To have both I followed MJ's advice and my mother's lead and moved to London, England. The first two years of my new life in England was a whirlwind of excitement and activity. Since I grew up in the Romanian countryside, the hustle and bustle of the big city was captivating and new. I suppose that's when my reputation of the British Playboy started to take shape. My reputation as an elite level gymnast skyrocketed only a few months after moving to London. I practiced and trained hard, but I played and partied even harder. Most weekends MJ would be by my side as the reigning queen of whatever club or party we frequented. I tried to keep gymnastics and parties separate, but when I was traveling internationally with my American rival and friend Marty Walsh, it was crazy and exciting all in one go. Therefore making my 'don't mix business with pleasure' philosophy crumble. Most Sundays I would stumble home in the early morning hours trying to quietly make it to my room, without waking my mum. Most times it never worked. She would hear me stumble through the doorway and sigh sadly when she seen my appearance. Most times she wouldn't have to say anything to make me feel quilty. She could just look at me with her sad eyes and I would feel all the pain and hurt she was feeling at my petty behavior.

Through it all my mother always looked out for me. She was my biggest fan at all of my competitions. She may not have approved of my partying ways, long drug out weekends, or even my relationship with MJ, but she stuck by me and encouraged me to reach my dreams. Even at the age of just eighteen, I always thought that my mother would always be there for me. How quickly a mother's touch, voice, and heart can be snatched away. I remember the day I knew I was losing my mother. It still plays in my mind like a broken record every mother's day. I came home from a long weekend of partying with MJ and as I walked into the living room, my mother was sitting in the living room quietly watching the clock. At seeing her I knew that something wasn't right. She looked at me, just as she did every other Sunday morning, and smiled sadly. I took a seat next to her on the couch before her cold, soft hands grabbed my larger more damaged hands in her own. She stroked my cheek and told me that no matter what happens she would always be with me...she told me she was dying. When my mother said those dreadful words my world, for the second time in three years, shattered.

After my mother explained why she was dying, the only place I traveled was home by my mother's side and the gym where I tried to find solace for my bleeding heart. The only people I talked to in the months following was MJ, my coach and father figure Nikolai, and my best friend Marty. I would have stayed with my mother if it had not been for Nikolai. My coach taught me how to harness the pain of my mother's impending death and channel it into my gymnastics. For six months, I trained and practiced until I had blisters on my already callused hands. Every night I would tend to my mother until she fell into a merciful sleep.

The last night I was with her she told me that I was and always would be her baby boy. As I held her hand, letting the tears freely fall, I told her to never leave me. . .I told her I would always love her. She smiled and closed her before telling me to never give up on my dreams and to fight for Olympic Gold with everything I had. Knowing my mother was literally on her death bed, I promised her that I would keep fighting and believing in myself, just as she had believed in me. I kissed her hand and watched her slip out of my life as quietly as an angel. I laid my head on her chest trying desperately to pretend she was sleeping. Nikolai found me the next morning still by my mother's side. He promised me that no matter what, he would look out for me.

At the time I was reluctant, but grateful for Nikolai's help. After the awkward meeting with my father to arrange the funeral I took comfort in the arms of MJ. Marty and MJ both flew in for my mother's funeral a few days after her death. I should have known that something was going on between them, when they both showed up at my doorstep for my mother's funeral. Like a lost puppy I took all the comfort I could get. I was blind to what was going on around me at the time. I passed through my mother's funeral in a numb state, just waiting for it to be over. MJ, Marty, and I went back to my empty house in London to get away from the press and the paparazzi. I could escape the press, but never my father. He barged in, trying to lure me back to Romania. I stared at him with narrowed eyes before shaking my head. He stormed out calling me a fool and left the country, never to be heard from again until my heart breaking athletic tragedy. My mother's death didn't pull me from London like he thought it would. Instead to make me feel closer to my mum I chose to stay in London, at least until the 2000 Olympics were over to win gold, just for her.

The two years leading up to the Olympic Games in Sydney, Australia was a mix of anger, hurt, loss, and grief because of the death of my mother. Over time I would learn that there were worse things out there than losing your way. I would learn that in matters of the heart and friendship, nothing is ever as binding and certain as it seems.


	3. Betrayal and Heartbreak

After the death of my mother I felt alone and abandoned. No one really understood what I was going through, except maybe Nikolai, my coach, my friend, and the father figure I would liked to have had in my earlier years. My coach was someone I could talk to about anything. He not only trained me in gymnastics, but helped out in life. For awhile after my mother's death, I went to the gym and trained for hours on end, channeling the ache in my chest into something meaningful and productive. The promise I made to my mother on her deathbed pushed me beyond my limits. Nikolai, for awhile, let me train and work and bleed gymnastics, until one day about a year after her death. He told me to go out and do something beside the sport of gymnastics. He told me not to let it suffocate me and destroy me. He told me to step away and find myself outside of the competitive sport...told me that their were more important things in life other than gymnastics ...just like my mother. Reluctantly I took his advice and took one week off my rigorous training regime and took a small vacation. Little did I know that the vacation would turn into a nightmare.

Deciding I had one week to spend anyway I wanted, I decided to go to America and surprise Marty with an impromptu visit. Every time I needed to unwind, Marty Walsh was the ticket. Not only was he a brilliant gymnast like myself, he was also a hard party-er. Before making the arrangements to travel to the states, I tried to get a hold of MJ to see if she wanted to join me, but after a few hours of trying to get her I gave up and bought a plane ticket. So I got on a plane and flew to Las Angles, California. For most of the plane ride I slept, so I could avoid jet lag on the other end of the journey. Once I landed, I breathed in the humid air of sunny California.

The scenery was like I remembered in my visits in resent years when traveling. As I gave the address I attained from Marty months ago I leaned back eagerly anticipating his shocked expression when he would find me on his door step. Once the driver pulled up on the curb I took in Marty's small house. I smirked when I saw his motorcycle in the drive way. My brows furrowed in confusion when I saw a white sleek convertible in his drive way as well. Not paying much attention to the car I bound up the steps eagerly before pounding on his door. I wait a few minutes before the door finally opens. To say Marty was surprised to see me would have been an understatement. I should have known from the guilty look in his eyes that something wasn't right, but I foolishly chose to ignore it. As I made my way into his cramped living room I heard movement from behind me. When I turned around my heart broke at the vision before me.

There standing in the entryway at the bottom of the steps was my girlfriend wrapped in nothing, but a blue silk robe. It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on. As I turned towards Marty for an explanation, I felt the tears slowly form at the edge of my eyes. I stubbornly blinked them back, determined not to let either of them see the damage they had done to me. When I asked them how long their relationship has been going on, MJ spoke and uttered the horrid truth. When she said that it was a little bit before my mother's death, I snapped. I shoved Marty across the room and walked by MJ, not caring if I saw either of them again. I felt betrayed, hurt, lonely, and worthless. My best friend went behind my back and was messing around with my girlfriend for more than a year. They came to my mother's funeral to comfort me, while still seeing each other. As I walked away from the house and out of their lives, I swore to myself that I would never love another woman again. No matter how beautiful or smart or kind or caring they seemed to be. The only thing I cared about was getting to the Olympics and keeping my promise to my late mother.

I flew back to England the next day and went to my home, only to drink every alcoholic substance within reaching distance. I spent the next few days in a drunken stupor, trying to forget the pain and rejection I felt. When I returned to training Nikolai never asked what happened and I never got into the details. Like the understanding man he is, he waited me out and let me try to deal with it myself. After six months of constant improvement and channeling all the pain and energy into my gymnastics I finally opened up. Too bad I had to shred my knee to pieces for that to happen. As Nikolai examined my knee and held an ice pact to it, I finally opened up about the debacle with MJ. He looked me in the eye and said that she wasn't fit for me anyway. He said that a woman deserving of me would be just as kind, focused, determined, passionate, and honest as me. He said that instead of being the exact same as me, she would complement me in a way only soul mates could. He explained that we would learn from each other and also teach each other. I wouldn't begin to even understand what he meant until a decade later.

After our talk, Nikolai and I began the intense training that would pave the way for my dreams to become a reality. As I took legal pain medication for my knee injury I also took steps to beat Marty Walsh in every single apparatus I could manage. Part of it was border line obsessive and Nikolai, of course, noticed. He said that six months would be enough time for me to up my DOD's just enough to edge out the competition...including Marty Walsh. As the days turned into weeks, my training increased as well as the pain in my knee. I pushed on, thinking of my mother and I wondered what she would say if she saw me now. I pushed on, thinking of Marty and MJ and of the pain and betrayal I felt when the two people closest to me stabbed me in the back. I channeled that pain and made it into drive and success. As the Olympics drew closer, my passion and will became stronger. On the night before I was set to leave for Sydney, Australia with Nikolai by my side, I knew that I would be leaving London, England a mere gymnast, but returning a gymnastics legend.

**AN: Sasha is just having loss and pain left and right. I assume that Sasha didn't have a...perfect childhood because of his attitude in the beginning of the show. He seemed kind of jaded when he first came to The Rock and I like to think this is a big part of why he is the way he is...at least until a certain some one tumbles into his heart. Anyway read and review to let me know what you guys think.**


	4. Birth and Death

**AN: Thank you so much for the reviews guys. I really though that know one would review this, but once again I've been proven wrong. If you're looking for more Sashaness go check out my other stories Love and Sacrifice and Mission Impossible. Read and Review!**

I remember the Sydney Olympics as if it had happened only yesterday. In reality though, I'm penning this specific chapter sixteen years later in my hotel room while my wife is curled beside me and our infant daughter is resting on top of her chest. I'm brought back to the bright lights of the arena, the roaring crowd yelling and cheering as if they were witnessing a major football game, and the raw adrenaline pumping through my veins like a raging fire ready to destroy anything in it's path.

Only a few things lift my heart and spirit in this cold world: my wife, my daughter, and gymnastics in that specific order. Although it is a tie between my wife and daughter. As I remember Sydney, I remember how it felt to be on top of the world with everything at my fingertips for the taking. I relished in the sport and all of its finer assets. I enjoyed everything until the very end. I remember the first routine I preformed at Sydney. It was my infamous ring routine that stunned millions and made me the legend I am today. The wood in my hands felt smooth and unbreakable, just like my determination to win four gold medals. As I landed solidly on the mat below I turned to the crowd and spotted Marty looking broken and miserable in the United States section. I glared at him, knowing he could see me across the arena. I smiled smugly after his feeble attempt at a gold medal worthy routine on the rings. He turned to me just as I had done and nodded, trying to convey something similar to an apology. I scowled and turned on my heel marching past Nikolai and my teammates towards the locker rooms.

After a few moments of silence the door crashed open to reveal my coach. He walked over to me before placing a hand on my shoulder. I looked up and was surprised to see simmering anger in his eyes. I shook my head and looked at the picture of my mother I carried with me. Nikolai seemed to understand my heartache as he slowly sat down next to me on the wooden bench. He asked what was wrong and I stubbornly said nothing. I shook my head before kissing my mothers picture and standing up and retreating back into the arena. I glanced up at the score board and smiled when England was in the lead. I smiled even more when I saw that I'd beaten Marty's ring routine by an eighth of a point.

After much stress and chaos of the first day of competition, I retreated back into my hotel room. I figured that if I stayed tucked away in my room then I wouldn't do anything stupid like kill Marty. As the days of competition wore on my strong front and strength in my knee was slowly ebbing away. On the last day of competition Nikolai insisted I see a doctor. I grudgingly agreed even though I had my mind made up of competing in the finals for all events. As the doctor looked at my x-ray, he shook his head grimly. I narrowed my eyes as I yanked my leg out of his grasp. If this was my last day of being an Olympian and an elite athlete I was going to go full out. I'd be damned if I didn't compete one final time.

Knowing that I was going to be competing for the final time in my life, the ride to the arena was stoic and silent. I made my way into the locker room one last time as a gymnast. As I wrapped my knee I sensed a presence behind me and sure enough when I looked over my shoulder, Nikolai was standing there with tears in his eyes. He sat across from me and took the athletic tape silently and began wrapping my mangled knee. Once he was finished he placed his hand on my shoulder reassuringly and nodded. Once my gym bag was packed with my water bottle, grips, and athletic tape I found myself in the glaring lines and roaring crowd once again. Only this time I knew that this would be it for me. After I finished all four routines, there would be no more competing, no more endorsements, but worst of all no more gymnastics.

I stepped out into the arena with my teammates by my side. I looked into the crowd and saw the familiar face of MJ Martin. She was cheering for Marty enthusiastically as I walked by. I turned to her and for once, I saw remorse in her bright green eyes. I scoffed and continued down the line until I was seated in one of the chairs for England. Looking back, that moment in which I saw MJ again was the one moment that fueled my desire to win gold for my country and for my mother.

As I sat waiting to start my rotations I tried to remember my mother and my too quick childhood. My mothers kind smile is what drove me through to win my gold medals. I told the media it was my torn friendship with Marty and my broken heart from MJ that fueled my passion just to give them what they wanted. In reality it was my mother and the promise I made to her on her deathbed. I envisioned my mother's eyes as I flew through my floor routine. As I landed each tumbling pass I did it in memory of her. When I threw myself at the pommel horse I will admit, I pretended I was tackling Marty's sorry face into the ground. The rings was the one place my mind was blank. Before I hoisted myself up on the unstable rings, I pictured my mothers smiling face and tried to imagine her voice and what her words of encouragement would be. Once I shook myself I began the ring routine that would put my name in gymnastics history. I went in knowing I could do it flawlessly and that it would be nothing to do again. I preformed it on the first day of competition only to replicate it and get the same exact score in the finals. A while later when I was standing at the parallel bars, it finally sunk in that this would be the very last routine I preform as an elite athlete. I took a shaky breath before mounting the bars. With each swing of my legs and flex of my arms I came one second closer to achieving my goal of gold. As I landed strongly on the ground the explosive pain in my knee made my stomach turn. I ignored it as I saluted the judges for the last time in my life before limping to the sidelines. I waited as the judges calculated my scores and my fate. It seemed like time stopped when the roar of the crowd broke through my haze. I glanced up and saw my name at the top of the small list indicating my gold medal. I sank in my chair when it hit me that I've earned four Olympic gold medals, not only for myself, but for England. Most importantly I kept my promise to my mother. I looked at the great flag of England and saluted it for not only my country, but for my mum. As I stared at the flag the tears began to flow down my face. I felt a hand on my shoulder and knew that it was Nikolai. I fell in his arms finding comfort in the father figure I've grown to respect and love, celebrating my win and achievement.

As the hours morphed into days, the fan fair of the games was slowly ebbing away. I knew that me competing at an elite level or any level for that matter would be out of the question. The pain in my knee was a consistent one that was both a curse and a talisman. It served as a reminder of what I achieved and had accomplished, but it also was a reminder of my dead career. I made history in the 2000 Olympic games when I was the only person to take away all possible gold medals in a sport. I became a legend and a major figure in the sport of gymnastics. I was the person that everyone was being compared to. I was a hero and a legend. Although the height of it only lasted so long. I was only great for a moment in time. The minute my knee injury flared up with a vengeance was the minute my legendary status died.

My premonitions of returning home to England a legend was true. Although I never knew that it would leave me so physically broken and torn. I did achieve my Olympic dreams and I did fulfill my promise to my mother. I was a legend and a hero. But I was broken and nothing or no one could repair my empty soul. The 2000 Olympic Sydney games was the birth place and the death bed of a legend.

**AN: Yea Sasha is in turmoil and it's going to keep coming for a couple more chapters. He does have a lot to learn, but he does obviously find happiness. If you all couldn't tell it was hinted at in ****the beginning of the chapter. Now the question is who is his wife? Is it Summer who is appropriate for him or is it Payson the girl who is of his own heart? Or is it someone else entirely? Read and review giving me your thoughts and opinions. **


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